Lovers
by CrystallicSky
Summary: Chase Young reflects on lovers past and present. CHACK, ONESHOT


**Lovers**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown to any extent.**

Warnings: Language, sexual implications, but not very explicit, etc, etc.

Chase Young had loved many in his lifetime.

The very first he was able to remember was his childhood sweetheart: he had been about five or six years old, and she had been such a pretty girl to his young eyes. Dark black hair, glowing brown eyes, and a smile that seemed bright enough to light the sky in the sun's stead; her name, unfortunately, he had lost to time. She had liked him too, and they always found themselves together, eating an afternoon snack, playing a random game, or even holding hands and watching the sunset. It was puppy-love in every sense of the word...

At least until he'd caught her holding hands with another boy.

He'd been possessive even at so young an age, and though he was now a full-grown man, he still admitted to his childish sense of 'mine', which included just about everything.

His second love had been when he was a teenager, somewhere around seventeen, and she, too, had been a pretty girl, though at that age, he could only appreciate her as 'sexy.' In fact, now that he considered it, she looked a lot alike to the previous female (obviously with a more adult body), but with longer hair, blacker eyes, and sharper features. Her personality, too, had been different from the first girl, but though she was quiet and reclusive, she would always offer him a smile. They had seen each other a number of times, even had sex at one point; however, when her father had caught them kissing once, the whole affair had been quickly ended.

His third love was the last he could remember very clearly, and it was only because he was the first man he'd ever found attractive. They had met shortly after Chase had taken Hannibal's offer, and when the blond European had expressed interest in him, he had made the decision that an eternal life was worthless if you didn't try new things. After what could have just as easily been a one-night-stand, the future warlord decided that homosexual sex wasn't all that bad (and to date, had become his favorite way to partake in the activity) and the two had started something of a relationship.

Imagine his surprise for the man to come to him crying one day, sobbing that he wasn't really gay after all, and that he'd known since the night they'd had sex but had refrained from telling him because he still liked Chase as a friend and didn't want to hurt him.

Needless to say, that'd been put to a stop immediately with harsh words and even a bit of physical violence, but it was completely called for: _five months_ of pretending only to admit that everything Chase had thought they'd been was a lie? He may have acted out of hurt, but a broken heart can cause irrationality.

After this man, as mentioned earlier, the warlord really had no clear recollection of his lovers for a long while.

He'd had them, that was for sure, but for that long period, it was just a complete blur of sex: blonds, brunettes, redheads, dyed hair, African, Spanish, Norwegian, Japanese, Filipino, Korean, German, Swedish, Irish, Scottish, British, Indian, various Canadians, Mexicans, Americans, and many more. He'd literally fucked at least one person from every independent nation in the world, and he had truly cared about none of them.

His last lover he _did_ recall, and that had been Wuya. She had never been anything more than convenient, a body to use to his own ends and relieve the ever-present, primal urge to fuck, and honestly, she'd never done a very good job of it. The witch was a rotten traitor, and not all that attractive to him (her dark skin and bright hair along with green eyes was too unnatural a color-combination for his tastes), and besides that, only concerned with her own orgasm during sex.

The warlord had always hated this aspect of her, because it usually meant he had need of resorting to a technique still used by Komodo dragons after _she_ came, fully-restraining the struggling female in order to mate with her. He didn't like doing that, but it was either holding the selfish bitch down while _he_ finished, or letting her have her way and going to masturbate elsewhere, and he _refused_ to give Wuya such a sway over him when he had deemed her unworthy of that.

Thank the gods he no longer had to suffice with _her_.

But the lover he had now...

It was odd: it had seemed almost as if one minute, he was rolling his eyes as he was verbally worshipped, and the very next, he was driving Spicer's pasty, white body into his sheets.

From the moment he'd met Jack Spicer, he had thought him…somewhat desirable. The boy wasn't ugly with his alabaster skin and pretty, ruby eyes, and he was unlike any he'd ever met (or fucked) before. The only reason he hadn't acted on this attractiveness was because of how grossly _different_ the goth had been from his previous consorts.

The majority of Chase's past lovers had been graceful creatures that behaved, for the most part, with decorum, intelligent socialites that expressed emotion to him in the average measure of moderation.

_Jack_, on the other hand, was loud and inelegant, a genius, but socially-retarded and lacking common sense, and his behavior towards the warlord was just shy of stalkerish.

He had avoided making anything out of his acquaintance with Spicer because he was most definitely not what the man was used to in the way of such things, and he was not all that fond of change.

The last time he taken the route of change, he'd gotten stuck with a selfish, two-timing witch that schemed against him at every turn, and certainly her apprentice couldn't be any better, not the way he showed a complete lack of loyalty for anyone or anything just as she did.

But he _was_ better.

The goth was smart enough to stimulate his intellect, interesting enough to keep his attention, and attractive enough to keep his lust. In combination, much more could be said of Spicer than of the multitude of one-night-stands in his past several centuries.

This uniqueness that Jack had was intriguing, and with every little thing the young man did, Chase found himself wanting to know more about him, to know _him_, and that was something he hadn't felt since he was very, very young, around age 6 with what's-her-name.

…would it be so awful to take Spicer as an actual _lover_ instead of a one-night stand?

It would mean he would have to associate with the boy daily, but in that way, Jack would surely tone down that excessive admiration of him. After all, it would seem to be quite near impossible to live with someone for an extended period of time and still think of that someone as god-like.

He would be having sex with Spicer, as well, but of course, _that_ was not a problem, not when the goth had proved to be so _passionate_ and _responsive_ to him; a far more giving and unselfish lover than any he'd had before.

Chase spared a glance to the body laying beside his in bed, as still as a rock and snoring. He absently wondered if the boy was uncomfortable sleeping on the edge of the bed like that, or if he was cold with only half the blankets on him.

The warlord blinked in surprise at these wonderings. He was wasting his time considering the comfort of his bed-partner after the fact? That was certainly new: normally, he could care less if the bed was outside on a frozen tundra and his lover was a hairless rat, the blankets were always _his_.

Could he…feel something substantial for Spicer?

With this thought, the warlord pulled the thoroughly unconscious Jack to the center of the bed, allowing him to share in the blankets to be found there and allowing himself to drift off to sleep.

Chase Young had loved many in his lifetime, and the same type of powerful, experienced lover (with little variation) each time.

In the end, none of them had made him happy.

Perhaps a clumsy, untried boy would have a better chance of winning his heart.

**A/N: No comments.**


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